


Into the Fire

by Blaiser



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mindfuck, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Payback, Period-Typical Racism, Rape, Sadism, Size Kink, Spoilers, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaiser/pseuds/Blaiser
Summary: Heads up for spoilers!!!Alternate ending for Josto.Josto's life is spared but his situation worsens after he is dropped off at Loy Cannon's doorstep as a consolation gift.The truly horrific stuff begins at chapter six.
Relationships: Josto Fadda/Original Male Character
Comments: 22
Kudos: 7





	1. From bad to worse

“So I heard your brother got his head blown off.”

Loy Cannon states indifferently as he lets himself slide down upon the stool next to the dusty, stained mattress where Josto is sitting curled up, his jet-black, tousled hair falling across his forehead and down into his eyes.

He’s been alone in this cold cellar for a few hours up until now, awaiting his fate.

Oraetta is dead - probably still lukewarm - shot in the head and buried somewhere outside town.

Josto watched her body fall into the newly dug hole then closed his eyes, bracing himself for the bullet he was sure was gonna shatter his skull next but the executioner, Joe Bulo, only laughed at him, uncocked his gun and said: _“Nah, this ain’t your lucky day!”_ then ordered his associates to escort Josto back to the car.

They drove him to the far side of town, stopping in front of an old abandoned warehouse belonging to Loy Cannon where three of his men were waiting on them.

_“A gift from New York. They say: tell your boss we’re even now.”_

Joe Bulo laughed again as he drove off, leaving Josto alone with Cannon's men.

They took him to a dirty, musty smelling room in the cellar of the warehouse, threw him down on a mattress and left, locking the door behind them.

They didn’t even bother tying him up or otherwise restrain him further.

Apparently the _mulignani_ did not regard him as a threat at all which Josto was paradoxically both grateful for and gravely offended by.

“How did that happen?” Josto looks up and sees Cannon’s eyebrows knitted together in puzzled curiosity, his lips curled in a small satisfied smile.

“He s-sh…“ Josto clears his throat and tries again “…he fell and shot himself. It was an accident.” His voice sounds weak and exhausted to his own ears and he hates it.

For a split second Cannon’s smile grows wider then his face falls into a serious looking mien instead.

“That is too bad. Perhaps if you two fuckups hadn’t started a war over nothing he would still be alive, stuffing his fat face with cake.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Josto looks up at Cannon, his eyes huge and apologetic, “I never meant for things to get out of hand like that, please believe me. It was all Gaetano’s doing…I tried but I couldn’t stop him…”

In a flash, Cannon has gotten up from the stool and backhanded Josto so hard his teeth rattles in his skull.

“You told me my son had been murdered, you little shit!” Cannon’s eyes are filled with flaming hate, his voice low and threatening, “do you have any idea what that feels like to _think_ your child is _dead_? What you put his mother through!?”

“I’m sooo _fuckin’_ sorry, Loy.” Josto bows his head in meek submission for an appropriate moment then looks up at his captor again, “I can only imagine what you and your wife must’ve gone through! But I never lied about that! I thought Satchel was dead, I really did. You didn’t know Gaetano as I did…he had this way of persuading people…bending them to his will - and that fuckin’ snake in the grass, Calamita! He was even worse than my broth..”

Cannon raises a hand in the air, making Josto fall silent at once.

“Cut the shit! I know what you are and what you did, I know your _mindset_. The only thing you’re sorry about is that you are here now…at _my_ mercy.”

He leans down and grabs ahold of Josto’s chin, forcing his face up towards him and looks down into a pair of hazel eyes wide with fright.

“But know this you little wop _fuck_ : you havn’t even begun feeling sorry yet…believe you me.”


	2. A most uncomfortable exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loy is vengeful and Josto is scared.

Cannon loosens his grip around Josto’s jaw and lets the smaller man slide slowly backwards and out of his hand then goes to sit back down on the stool beside the mattress where Josto is situated, huddled up into a ball.

There he stays, silently staring his captive down with a grim looking expression on his face.

Finally, when Josto is too uncomfortable to put up with the tension any longer, he gets on his knees and locks eyes with Cannon.

“Please, Loy...I don’t know what it is you heard or what lies that rat fuck, Ebal, told you about me…the only thing I’m guilty off is trusting the people closest to me…now was that _stupid_? Yes, it was…in hindsight it was…Calamita, Ebal…even my own brother betrayed me! As a boss yourself, you must know just how fuckin’ impossible it is to control everyone all the time - especially men with such ambition! I was a chump, it’s true, and I realized my mistake too late…that was my fault and it got a lot of people killed, yours and mine, and I get why you might want to get back at me for that but…”

Josto sees Cannon pull his switchblade from his inner pocket, takes the hint and falls dead silent.

His captor presses the small button on the side of the weapon and the blade clicks open, glimmering in the light of the lonely, naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

“You just like to dig yourself deeper and deeper, don’t you?”

Cannon turns the blade, admiring its sharpness.

“Funny, how you so-called made guys pride yourself with being loyal…cause’ you’re not really, _are you_? All that talk of family, community, roots and honor...it’s just another trick to make you seem virtuous, trustworthy, like men who share a certain unbreakable bond to the people who have to deal with you…but the truth of the matter is, you’re all just rodents in pricey suits that would sell your own mothers down the river for a quick buck. Some of you might be half-smart, I’ll give you that...”

Josto swallows as Cannon looks up from the blade, his pulse increasing rapidly as one part of his brain is telling him to get up and flee no matter the cost, claw or bite his passage through the walls of the cellar if he has to, while the other is reminding him he’s trapped and that the only way out is through the man sitting before him.

“…but not _you_ though. You’re just a sneaky, greedy, cowardly little fuckwit who is stupid enough to think he is smart.”

“Loy… _listen_ …” Josto shifts on his knees.

He holds his hands out in front of his chest, palms out, “…I can get you any information you need! Everything about the family: their names, their secrets, everything about the businesses they control from Kansas City to New York! You name it, I know it all. We can make a deal, you and me, _hmm_?”

He nods his head only to find out he’s just agreeing with himself and no one else. Cannon is just staring at him with supreme indifference.

“…you let me go and I tell you _everything_. I’ve got a lot of money stashed away and we can split all that, alright? After...I’ll go far away and I swear you’ll never see my fucking face again. What’s the point in killing _me_ anyways? I don’t hold any power anymore and never will again. The family is as dead to me as I am to them. They sold me out, served me up as a scapegoat…”

He pauses for a few seconds so as to control his breathing, to not make it too obvious to Cannon exactly how nervous he is, how fast his heart is hammering away in his chest.

Taking a chance, he scoots slightly closer to Cannon, well aware the move brings him within cutting range of his blade. 

“…and that thing you said about loyalty…you were right! I see that now. But I can be loyal to the _right_ boss: a man with smarts and vision – like _you,_ Loy. If there is one thing this whole awful situation has taught me is that I’m much more of a follower than a leader. I could help you take over this town, win it all. Just give me the chance to prove myself to you!”

When he realizes Josto is finished speaking, Cannon lets out a snorting laugh. For a moment his dark eyes turn amused before falling back into stone cold hardness again.

“Boy…don’t insult me! If you knew anything worth knowing those bastards would have _never_ handed you over to me. They'd just shot your ass along with that murderous girlfriend of yours.”

He leans forward and places his blade against Josto’s carotid artery, drawing a small gasp from the younger man.

“So easy…” Cannon mumbles more to himself than to Josto, staring at the blade pressed against Josto’s pale throat “…like cutting into soft butter.”

“Please don’t.”

Josto dares not move an inch. He looks up at his captor, his eyes huge and begging.

“Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything you want…I’ll _do_ anything.”

Cannon makes a small snort then shakes his head slightly.

“Funny, I thought I would enjoy this a whole lot more but you being here is like…knowing you’re right and then finding out you’ve been _exactly right_ the entire time. Or maybe more like buying your own Christmas presents…you don’t even get to be just _a little_ surprised, you know?”

Josto’s eyes shifts once between Cannon and thin air, a confused expression replacing the terrified one on his face.

“I’m sorry...but I don’t understand.” He says in a small meek voice while trying to keep the shutter spreading through his treacherous body under control, “I-I..”

“That’s alright. I know you don’t.”

Cannon sighs and places a hand on top of Josto’s head, petting his hair gently a few times.

The touch is so strangely intimate and out of character that Josto expects Cannon to snap and slice his throat open at any second. 

He waits, bracing himself for pain and warm blood spatter but it never happens.

After a few terrifying seconds, Cannon simply withdraws the hand on top of Josto’s head then the knife from his throat, folds it back up and puts it away in his inner pocket. 

“I don’t consider myself a bad man…” Cannon starts, his eyes narrowed, looking down into Josto’s, “despite what everyone thinks of me and whatever lessons this business have taught me over the years that might warn me not to, I _can_ still feel pity for others…but _you_ …”

His voice turns venomous as he stands, taking a step closer to Josto, towering over him.

“…oh _you_ bring out the very worst in me. You told me my child was dead and you tried to _murder_ him twice. That is unforgivable times over and I wish I could kill you more than just the once. “

“H-hold on! Please, you gotta believe me...I didn’t…”

Josto’s mouth has gone dry and when he swallows his throat makes an audible click.

“…know of it! Any of it! It was all Gaetano and Calamita, I swear by all that is holy and the mother Mary...”

While Josto is rambling desperately away, repeating himself over and over, Cannon is checking his suit jacket for creases and smoothing out the ones he spots.

When satisfied with the result he turns his attention back to his captive, once again narrowing his eyes into hateful slits.

He holds his index finger to his lips making Josto go silent at once. 

“Sadly, _once_ is all I’m going to get so I guess I’ll have to make it count for something. But luckily for me – not so much for _you_ – I have plenty of time to think up excruciating ways of killing your ass.”

He leans down and smiles malignantly in Josto’s face, savoring the fear and anxiety evident in those now impossibly huge eyes.

“But until that time comes…I’m gonna introduce you to somebody: a brand new associate of mine. This man, although married to a beautiful woman, sometimes has certain...well, what some like to call _unnatural tendencies_ …”

Cannon leans down and whispers the last few words in Josto’s ear, enjoying the quickened, trembling breathing his words provoke in the other man before retracting his head just enough so that he can study the full scale of Josto’s terrorized face again.

“…you know the kind of urges the good Lord frowns upon? Now, you probably never seen him before in your life but he sure as shit knows who _you_ are! His brother, a trusted employee of mine, ended up with two bullet holes in the back of his skull the week before last down by the river - a murder I believe you ordered.”

Cannon gives Josto a final stare before standing up straight again.

“Maybe you’re lucky and you're just not his type...”

He shrugs his shoulders sarcastically.

“… _or maybe_ …” Cannon’s eyes turn hard again “…you’re soon gonna wish I killed you already. “

He pivots towards the door and raises his voice, yelling:

“CARVER! You’re up!” then turns back facing Josto, giving him such a vindictive look promising slow and painful death it makes his captive's heart sink.

“Time to find out which it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this works or not. It was written in a hurry. Loy has some serious sadistic tendencies and Josto is made into a bigger coward than I suspect he might actually be at this point.


	3. Carver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new man is introduced.

Slowly, the wooden door creaks open.

Cannon is blocking his view so Josto has to lean his head slightly past the other man’s midsection in order to get a glance at the new arrival, now standing in the doorway, hindering most of the light from the hallway behind him from entering the room.

The mocha-skinned man, clad nicely in a white shirt and tailored black suit that looks pricier than even the one Cannon is wearing, is at least 6’6, stoutly built and looks as though he could snap Josto in half and break every bone in his body without ever even breaking into a sweat.

His hair is wild and kinky, sticking out in all directions in semi-long heavy, black locks giving off the impression that he either does not give a damn about the fashion of his people or has been restrained from grooming for the past six months.

As the man moves closer and further into the light, Josto notices the massive, deep scar running from the middle of his forehead, down over his right brow and further down the cheek, ending in a small spiral at his upper lip.

Despite the prominent scar his face is oddly handsome still, clean shaven with broad features and large, very dark eyes. He looks to be around Josto’s age give or take a few years.

“Boss.” The man states, his voice slightly raspy and a little lighter than Josto had expected for someone so enormous, as he comes walking up on the side of Cannon where he stops and looks down at Josto with a neutral mien.

Cannon breaks away from staring down Josto and greets the man with a nod of his head then looks down at his prisoner again.

“This here is _Josto_. I believe you know him already. Under normal circumstances I would offer a new guy like you some backup but in this particular case I really don’t think you’ll need any, will you? Are you packing?”

The giant runs his eyes over Josto’s kneeling form for a split second before looking back at Cannon. “No, but I think I can handle it, Boss.”

“Good.” Cannon gives Josto a final venomous stare before sucking his teeth and meeting his employee's gaze.

“I’ll leave you to it. Like I said earlier, you can do whatever you want just _don’t kill him_. I need him alive for now.”

Cannon turns his back to Josto and begins to walk towards the door.

“ _No no no_ , Loy…just…I’m _begging_ you! Please don’t do this!” Josto shakes his head in denial as his eyes dart nervously back and forth between Carver’s face and Cannon’s back.

“You’re making a huge fuckin’ mistake! I’m innocent! Don’t leave me here with this man, _please_!”

But Cannon ignores his plea and walks away, closing the door behind him as he exits the room.

Josto swallows and turns his attention back to the giant who hasn’t moved an inch except to scratch his scalp once.

For almost a minute the two men just look at each other before Josto decides to initiate a conversation.

“Curtis…is it?” Josto asks, trying to keep the tremble in his voice to a minimum while straightening his back a little.

“Carver.”

The large man corrects him in a neutral tone of voice.

“Right...like the smart guy with the peanuts.” Josto clears his throat.

A slow rumble of a motor in the distance and the sound of tires running on gravel tells him that someone - most likely Loy - has left the warehouse parking lot.

“ _Listen_ , Carver: I mean no disrespect but I have to be real honest with you right now: Loy has lost his mind, become paranoid as fuck and I don’t blame him! Being in his shoes who wouldn’t end up a little squirrely in the head, you know? I mean enemies left and right, his own people turning against him, that thing with Happy...I get it! I sympathize more than anyone ‘cause it happened to me as well! But the things he told you I am responsible for…I didn't do it - any of it!”

He balls his fists tightly together in front of his chest and clenches his teeth.

“I’m fuckin’ innocent, alright! I might have done some shitty things in my life but trying to kill a _fuckin’ kid_ ain’t one of them...and your brother? May God rest his soul!”

Josto looks down for a second and crosses his chest.

“I had nothing to do with it…but given what I know _now_ it does sound like something that traitorous cum stain, Calamita, would have done behind my back. He must’ve been following my brother, Gaetano’s orders, you understand?”

There is a small twitch at the corner of Carver’s mouth but Josto does not take note of it. He’s too busy wrapped up in his own lies, trying to make them sound convincing.

“I’d only wish I had shot Calamita myself when I had the chance and Gaetano as well. He was my brother and all but he was like the devil himself and I was just a pawn in his game. I see it all so clearly now. They are both dead but if I could I would bring them back and kill them again! I’m sure your brother was a fine, god fearing man and I’m sorry he’s gone but please believe me when I say that I had nothing to do with him dying!”

Carver closes his eyes and tilts his head towards the ceiling like he is praying.

Josto waits, his whole body tense, alert, ready to jump up and make a run for the door which he is pretty sure Cannon left unlocked when he exited the room.

After about half a minute, Carver opens his eyes and looks down at Josto again.

Attached to a chain around his neck is a small golden cross that Josto hasn’t noticed until now.

Carver’s hand closes around the cruxifix for a second before letting it go again then goes to sit down on the stool that Cannon occupied earlier.

“It’s ok. I know what Loy is and I know what he’s capable of.” The large man sighs and rubs his eye with the palm of his hand.

“And I’ve heard the stories about your brother. They say he was…a wildcard, I guess. Went his own ways, uncontrollable and crazy. I only took this job because I needed the money real bad and Loy said you murdered Louis…it was a one stone two birds kinda thing. He even asked me if I would do things to you that no sane man could ever think of doing and I agreed just to get the job, not knowing what he meant by it at the time. I just thought it meant killing you which I was more than willing to do then. Only now…”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboros and a golden Zippo lighter, takes a cigarette out then offers the open pack to Josto.

Surprised and slightly suspicious of the considerate gesture, Josto, never taking his eyes off of Carver, leans forward, reaches out his hand and pulls one from the package while biting his lower lip.

“I just want out of all _this_ , you know? I was in the war…first France then Germany. Saw horrible fuckin’ things…every day men blown to pieces and sometimes much, _much_ worse. Being in Loy’s employment these past weeks I have seen shit that has reminded me of some of those things I thought I had left behind over there.”

Carver bows his head a little then shakes it lightly.

“I believe you when you say that you had nothing to do with my brother being killed. Loy is different…you can just see it in his eyes, he is not to be trusted. He’ll tell you anything to get what he wants. I ain’t stupid, I know he only cares about the money and getting back at you because of that thing with his kid. My brother was on his payroll and it got him killed but Loy only started caring about that when there was something in it for him…in my world that makes him just as bad as whoever pulled the trigger.”

He lights up his cigarette then holds the flame close enough for Josto to light his.

“Were you in the war? You seem old enough.” Carver takes a drag of his cigarette and looks over at Josto who is discretely trying to rub smoke out of one eye.

“No, I-I…have a crocked back, broke it when I was a kid so I can’t run very fast and it hurts like hell whenever I try… but I always wanted to serve.”

Josto lies, knowing full well it was his Daddy who bribed the local draft board, helping him dodge that particular bullet.

Dying for your country – a country that doesn’t even pay you very well - that’s for suckers.

“…although in a way I’m glad I didn’t get to go all things considered. It must have been hell over there. I probably wouldn’t have made it back.” 

A small sympathetic smile forms on Carver’s face for a second then dissolves again.

With a thumb he flicks the lighter lid open and closed a few times before lighting the flame, studying the intensity of it.

“It was. Once you’ve seen things like that... _man_ , they stay with you forever.”

Josto sits back on his heels, inhaling the smoke deeply into his lungs and blowing it out slowly through his nose, feeling the slight nicotine high.

It can’t be more than half a day since last he smoked but this particular cigarette feels like the best one he’s ever had.

There is something surprisingly calming about knowing you still have even a slim chance at a life when you thought all hope was lost.

Josto can feel his pulse slowing down, his tense muscles relaxing again.

Of course the danger is no way near over. He still has to convince Carver to betray Cannon and somehow get him the fuck out of the warehouse.

Then comes the whole part about dealing with Carver…but that worry remains in a future so far away that Josto decides not to spend the energy, even thinking about it right now.

The man before him seems pliable enough. He is trapped in this situation same as Josto, looking to him to show him the way out.

Josto looks up at Carver who seems to be deeply focused on his lighter, trying to fix the wick.

“I can help you out.. _financially_ , I mean…”

Carver stops what he’s doing and looks up, curiously fixing his gaze onto Josto’s face.

“I’ve got a lot of cash stashed away, more than I could ever spend on my own - we’re talking _millions._ ”

He leans forward and does a confidential nod as if he and Carver now share some kind of mutual secret.

It is another lie of course with just a small dose of truth sprinkled on top; Josto does have a little money put away, a hundred and fifty thousand maybe, but they are all in a vault at the bank and his papers are back at the family’s house which is probably swarming with people who all want him dead.

But these _mulignani_ will believe anything in Josto’s experience, even the rich ones if the lie is told well enough. Wave a dream in front of their faces and they come running - the bigger the illusion the better. Maybe that is also why they are so big on God and all that shit.

“Did you just say… _millions_? as in _dollars_?” Carver’s leans forward, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

“My hand to God. 2.1 to be exact. Business has been _real_ good these past few years - especially selling meat. Midwesterners can’t get enough of it!”

Josto’s eyes widen and he lets out a loud exhalation, giving Carver the most innocent look he can muster.

“I tried to plead with Loy, told him I didn’t do the things he accused me of but he just wouldn’t hear it! He’s fixed on blaming me for all this shit that has been happening ever since my Father died…the chaos, the murders and lost businesses…but it ain’t rational! He can’t see the truth even when it is staring him in the face: that _he’s the one to blame_ and now he’s gonna make an example out of _me_ to wash his own hands of the blood he spilled...It just ain't fair!”

Seemingly mind blown, Carver blinks and takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Holy shit! That sure is a lot of money. “

Josto nods, perhaps too eagerly his instinct tells him, but at the same time he’s desperate to seal the deal with Carver, to pull him ashore like the big, dumb trout he is before Carver get's cold feet and disappears back into deeper waters again.

“ _Yes_. Yes, it is. And some of that… _half_ of that can be yours. I have no use for any of it if I’m dead, so what do you say, Carver? 50-50?”

For a second or two, Carver’s eyes gleam discretely with naive delight. “Oh, I like the sound of that…but where do you keep it all?”

“I’ll have to keep _that_ a secret until we get out of here. You understand, don’t you?”

“You’re wanna make sure I don’t go back on my promise.”

Carver nods his head and throws the rest of his cigarette into the corner where it glows orange for a few seconds before extinguishing . “I get that. You’re just trying to survive.”

“It’s my only leverage. All I can say is that it is buried not far from the Missouri river. But you have _my word_ : when I get out of here, I can bring you your share within a couple of hours – or you can come with me and help me dig it up yourself. Whatever you prefer.”

Carver raises his hand in the air like he’s accepting Josto’s argument as the gospel itself.

“Whatever you say, man. You give me your word, I believe you.”

“I won’t let you down. On my life. “

Josto takes a final drag of his cigarette and puts it out against the cement floor, next to the mattress.

“Are any of Loy’s guys still upstairs?”

“I don’t think so. Most of the muscle is either at the slaughterhouses, manning the trucking routes or standing guard around his house. After he killed Happy and Happy’s remaining men went back to the country side, there aren’t many left to spare.”

“And you don’t have a piece on you? Josto raises his eyebrows in slight worry, “or even a knife?”

“Only _this_...”

Carver pulls a switchblade from his trouser pocket, waving its pearl handle slightly before Josto’s eyes.

“You know how to use that thing?”

Carver nods. “I do. The war taught me that at least.”

“Alright, _listen,_ this is how we do this: you take me upstairs and if we run into someone…well, if it’s just one or two you might be able to handle them…I mean, you’re a big guy so, I mean, right? And If you can’t, if its too dangerous and we don’t get to have the element of surprise, you just tell them you were taking me to the can or something and then lead me downstairs again.”

The plan is way to impulsive for his taste, too many things could go sideways, but at least it is a shot at freedom and Josto cannot think of a better strategy under the current circumstances.

Besides, what has he really got to loose at this point? He has to take a chance soon or he’s guaranteed death.

Cannon might change his mind at any given time maybe even on the ride back home, returning soon after to slit Josto’s throat from ear to ear.

And that is the best case scenario. The worst one Josto doesn’t even want to think about.

Josto stands up straight and Carver does the same, towering over Josto like a lunar eclipse.

The size difference between them makes Josto slightly uncomfortable but when he looks up into Carver’s face he sees only innocent naivety shining from his dark eyes, his lips curled in a small almost shy smile.

“One million dollars, right?” Carver says and holds out his hand, wanting to shake Josto’s.

“Yeah…that’s right. It’s a deal.”

Josto locks eyes with Carver as he places his much smaller hand in Carver’s.

Carver closes his hand around Josto’s, giving it a gentle squeeze then loosens his grip and holds out his hand towards the door, signaling for Josto to take the lead.

“After you, _boss_.”

Josto lets out a barely audible exhalation and starts walking towards the exit about thirty feet away.

Carver is right behind him, casting his massive shadow over Josto’s frame.

Upon reaching the door Josto turns his head slightly, gazing up into Carver’s eyes.

“You know...I’m really grateful for this and I won’t forget it – any of it. You did the right thing, picked the winning team, Carver. _Smart man_.”

He reaches up and pads the other man’s shoulder a couple of times then turns back towards the door, his hand closing around the door handle.

Josto is about to pull down on the handle when he feels long, strong fingers close around the back of his skull then a sharp, intense pain as his head is slammed violently into the door, bouncing against its wooden surface like a rubber ball against a brick wall.

For a split second his world goes dark and he slumps onto the floor.

When he comes to again, a small trickle of blood is running down into his right eye from a deep cut in his forehead, blurring his vision.

His nose feels broken, blood pouring from that also, breaking up into small red streams on the lower half of his face.

Confused by the sudden turn of events and still groggy from the blow to his head, Josto looks wide eyed up at Carver who is now standing over him; his hands resting casually in the pockets of his trousers, still wearing that strange-looking shy smile that Josto now understands is about as genuine as his late uncle Sal’s toupee.

“ _Woops!_ ” Carver says in a mocking tone of voice then tilts his head a little, his smile turning wider and darkly unpleasant reminding Josto of a giant, nightmarish pickaninny doll.

He pulls one hand from his pocket and holds it down towards Josto, seemingly offering to help him get back up.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I get a little carried away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor fuckin' Josto. I have to warn you all. This is going to end badly.


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver is not a well-adjusted individual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter concludes me teasing you. In the next one I will get down to business! 
> 
> Like practically any other writer on this platform I do like to get feedback (pos or neg). I'm not a native English speaker and I suspect I get some of the wording and grammar wrong sometimes (I thought for example that 'a stool' was spelled "stoole" for a long time until someone found it in their hearts to correct me), so if you see something that is way off and it bothers you, please don't hesitate to correct me as I do try to learn whenever I can.

Instinctively, Josto's trembling hand finds his face, checking to see if his nose is still attached and whether his teeth are all where they should be.

To his great surprise and relief he finds himself as intact as he could have hoped for given the viciousness of the blow to his head; the bridge of the nose though sore as hell remains unbroken and there are no loose teeth jangling around his mouth either.

Josto lets out a short, strangled exhalation as he quickly wipes some of the blood from his face off in his jacket sleeve then looks from the now tainted sleeve up at his attacker with a mixture of disbelief and shock.

Carver, who is looming over him like an evil god of doom with his hand reached out and still smiling that unnerving smile, wiggles his fingers in Josto’s face.

“Come on, get up… “ Carver orders while laughing “… _that_ was hardly even a love tap.”

“ **Christ!** ” Josto exclaims through clenched teeth as he hurries onto his knees as fast as his still dazed brain allows him to, then turns around and crawls a few feet over to the door where he starts to fumble desperately for the handle.

After finally catching the handle in his hand, he manages to push down on it and pull the door open a few inches before meeting a firm, unyielding resistance.

Desperately, he yanks the handle once more but the door still won’t open enough to allow him to slip through it.

Josto, hearing the sound of lips smacking somewhere above him, tilts his head towards the source, meeting Carver’s amused gaze.

His captor now leaning casually against the doorframe has put the palm of his hand flat against the door, preventing Josto’s escape.

“ _Uh, uh, uh_ …” Carver makes a guttural sound and shakes his crazy-haired head slightly like he’s disciplining a small child.

“Not gonna happen.”

“SHIT, shit shit shit!!!” Josto jumps onto his feet, stumbles forward and makes it about five feet away from the door before his brain reminds him he isn’t ready to stand just yet not to mention run, and he collapses onto the floor on his belly.

Desperate to further the distance between himself and Carver as fast as possible, Josto then starts crawling on his hands and knees until he reaches the corner furthest away from the door where he tries standing up again – this time succeeding although his knees are shaking dangerously beneath him, threatening another collapse.

With his back against the wall he looks over at Carver, still leaning against the doorframe with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“W-wha…w-…w-why did yo…” Josto stammers, trying to catch his breath at the same time, “…I m-mean, what THE FUCK!?!”

He touches the bruise on his forehead and hisses in pain.

“What did you do that for!?! I thought we had a fuckin' deal!” He barks at the man across the room, his fear wielding slightly to his anger of Carver's betrayal.

Carver lets out an amused snort and shuts the door closed with a light push of his hand.

“ _Oh what a tangled web we weave_ …”

Carver states in a poetic voice as he begins strolling over towards where Josto is standing who in return starts to gradually back himself further up against the wall as the other man nears him.

“What does that even mean?”

The anger is gone from Josto’s voice and fear has taken over again.

“Ok, know what? forget about half…y-you can have it all, Carver! Every last fuckin’ cent of that money is yours - I don’t care…”

Josto’s back hits the wall with a light _thud_.

Carver smiles wider, his eyes glinting predatory.

“… _when first we practice to deceive_.”

Carver stops directly in front of Josto, staring down at him.

“…just get me out of here…” Josto’s voice has turned into a whisper, his eyes now huge and wet.

“I-I…oh _God_! Carver, plea…”

Josto makes a small whimper as strong fingers closes around his neck, squeezing just enough to keep him from completing the sentence.

He doesn’t dare to struggle knowing full well it will only bring him further harm if he tries, so instead Josto just stands there pacified, too scared to even blink, letting Carver do whatever it is he wants.

“ _Hush_ _now_.” Carver says softly as he turns Josto’s head a little from side to side, studying his features and the remaining drying blood coating the skin with a satisfied look on his face, then lets a finger trail from Josto’s temple along his stubbly jaw line across his chin and upwards again where the digit comes to rest against a small set of trembling lips. 

“I am your God now…” Carver leans down and in so close, Josto can feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek, making him shudder.

“…and your God commands you _to take off your fuckin’ clothes_.”


	5. From worse to much worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the abuse takes off and I do believe it will get a lot worse from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always had an affinity for shitty erotica and I think it shows.

Carver lets go of Josto’s throat, puts both hands in his trouser pockets and steps back a pace, patiently awaiting his order to be carried out.

But Josto just stands there, doing nothing except staring back at him, his face twisted in disbelief.

He clearly heard what Carver said, he just cannot believe _what he said_.

“W-what!?” Josto asks bewildered, “Carver, I don’t…”

“Take it _off_ \- all of it.” Carver repeats calmly, interrupting him.

He runs his gaze over Josto’s frame then pulls a hand from his pocket and points a finger at Josto’s neck where a black tie hangs loose and sloppy.

“…except for maybe _that_. Keep that.”

“No… _please_ , Carver...”

Josto’s hands are in front of his chest, palms out, “…just stop and think about what you are doing…”

Josto’s eyes dart from one side of Carver to the other, desperately trying to figure which way is the best one to escape past him, but Carver’s massive frame appears to take up so much space either route seems equally impossible.

“It’s not too late to… ** _FUCK_**!!!”

Carver takes a step towards Josto and he panics, plunges forward past Carver’s left side, trying to dodge the charging man like a gazelle evading a lion, only Carver closes the gap between them in a millisecond and drives his fist into Josto’s stomach making him give off one deep, hollow gasp.

Then Carver slams Josto's body back against the wall where he slides down onto the floor in a trembling heap of useless meat and bones, panting for air.

“You talk too much.”

Carver reaches down and grabs ahold of Josto’s tie, pulling him to his feet by using it as a leash. 

He stares down into the smaller man’s face, the smile now gone replaced by a hateful looking grimace that makes Josto’s blood run cold.

“It’s getting on my nerves. Be quiet and do as you are told or I’m gonna have to hurt you for real.”

He pads Josto lightly on the cheek and steps back, situating himself a few feet away like before, hands in his pockets, waiting for Josto to begin undressing.

“ _Carver_ …” Josto starts then flinches as Carver tilts his head and gives him a threatening stare, opening his eyes so wide Josto can see the whites surrounding the dark pupils. 

“A-alright, alright…”

Slowly, he kicks off his shoes and removes his socks, regretting his decision immediately as his bare feet touch the cold cement.

Next he takes off his coat then the thinner red jacket beneath it, dropping them both in a pile on the floor next to himself.

Now standing only in his dark trousers and thin white shirt, he looks up at Carver again, begging him with his eyes.

“It’s really cold…”

He says in a small voice and clutches himself tightly, not exactly sure what he expects to get out of that statement; it’s not like Carver is suddenly going to change his mind and offer him hot coffee and a nice, comfy blanket just because he’s whining about the temperature.

Carver’s lips curl back into a chilling smile, this time showing a row of perfect, straight teeth.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get warm again in a minute.”

Carver runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth. “Now the rest of it.”

Josto swallows and blinks.

This whole situation with Carver is reminding him too much of what happened when he was trapped at the Milligan household as a kid - something he has tried so desperately to forget ever since.

Usually it is not something that clouds his mind at all, but every now and then like right this moment, something or someone triggers him and the memory of that piece of shit, Yiddles, crawling into his bed with whiskey on his breath and touching him under the covers where he shouldn’t while Mrs. Milligan is sound asleep in the next room, pops up in Josto’s mind like a nightmarish Jack-in-the-box.

And just like every other time that it has happened before, Josto closes his eyes and manages to force the awful grinning face back in the box and slam the lid shut, pushing it as far away and out of mind as possible.

“I said: now.” Carver warns, “don’t make me tell you again.”

His mouth is still smiling but his eyes are hard and threatening.

Josto opens his eyes again, swallows strained and begins to unbutton his shirt with a trembling hand.

All he can hope for is that Carver is either just trying to scare him and/or that he has something else in mind for him than what Josto suspects he has – a thing too awful, too unnerving to even contemplate fully.

Loy called it _unnatural tendencies_ and of course Josto knew what he meant straight away, but one thing is knowing about the existence of some horrible monster and remaining at a safe distance from it, another is coming face to face with the thing and finding out its not only bigger and uglier than you thought but a lot hungrier as well.

When done unbuttoning the shirt Josto drops it in the pile on the floor where his tank top follows suit soon after.

Josto can feel Carver’s eyes on his now bare upper body and warm spittle fills his mouth.

He turns his gaze unto the floor and swallows again, pulls off his belt, drops that then unbuttons his trousers, pulling them down and stepping out of them which leaves him in nothing but his shorts and tie.

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head once then places his fingers at the elastic band of his boxers and drops them also, quickly covering his genitals with both hands instead.

More uncomfortable than he thinks he has ever been in his life, Josto looks up in time to notice Carver’s dark eyes sweeping over his body with an amused glint in them.

With a couple of steps Carver closes the distance between them, his now too near presence challenging every fiber in Josto’s being to not just flinch as he ends up doing but to turn tail and run in whichever direction takes him the furthest away from Carver.

With a brush of his hand, Carver gets Josto’s tie out of the way, leaving it dangling behind his shoulder, in order to get full access to the small patch of sparse hair on his chest, running his fingers over it, feeling the warmth and softness of the skin beneath. 

“Let me see what you've got.”

Josto lets out a strained whimper as Carver’s hand travels down over his belly and grabs a hold of both his wrists, forcing his hands away and leaving his cock and balls exposed.

Then Carver snorts amused and Josto gasps as his attacker’s hand closes around him, cupping him and giving him a tight squeeze.

Not sure if the other man is in fact getting ready to rip his genitals clean off or not, Josto looks up into Carver’s eyes and opens his mouth to plead only to feel the hand holding him let go again and disappear behind his back instead, forcing itself between Josto and the wall and grabbing onto a chunk of his ass. 

For some reason that Josto cannot even explain himself, this particular violation seems even more invasive and outrageous than Carver touching his cock, and he finally finds the courage to fight his attacker, by squirming against him and driving his knee upwards fast, hoping to hit something, _anything_ that will hurt Carver enough to let him go.

Only the distance between them is too short and their height difference too great, resulting in Josto hitting something of Carver’s that is just as hard as his own knee with less than a third of the force he had hoped for, and Carver looking down at him with one slightly raised eyebrow, conveying to Josto that he can do about as much damage to him as a mosquito can do to an elephant’s ass, and that he is a silly creature for even thinking otherwise.

Still not giving up though, Josto reaches behind his own back and grabs onto as much of Carver’s forearm as his short fingers and the weird angle allows him to, then tilts his face upwards meeting the other man’s gaze, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, imitating that look Gaetano would always give people when he was either really pissed or otherwise upset about something.

“D-don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

He wants to sneer, to seem concreate and threatening like _enough is enough motherfucker_ , but the words leave his mouth in a trembling and insecure voice and only ends up adding to that growing, awful feeling of absolute defenselessness instead. 

And of course his attacker just laughs at him; a wide and terrible grin that reminds Josto of a shark about to devour its prey, then Carver grabs him by the upper arm and spins him around, holding the side of Josto’s face pressed against the cold bricks with one hand on the back of his head while the other goes to work on his own belt and trousers.


	6. From much worse to just plain horrific

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains rape (very detailed).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the product of a major hangover. Whenever I have that I get not only an existential crisis but all these weird, horrible ideas that I just have to write down to take my mind off all the other shit going on in my head. 
> 
> It gets pretty extreme - sorry, Josto. 
> 
> I don't know if I just "painted myself into a corner" or not with this chapter 'cause where does one go from here? I guess we'll see.

Turns out that the rustling of a metal buckle is the most blood-curdling thing Josto has ever heard in his life; ten times more eerie than the sound of Cannon’s switchblade being drawn or Joe Bulo cocking his gun and him thinking he is about to take a bullet in the face. 

He puts the palms of his hands against the wall and tries to push himself off it but of course the effort turns out to be futile; Carver’s hand is steadily holding him pinned to the bricks by his skull and even when using his full and desperate strength it still does not even come close to breaking the man’s hold on him.

When Josto realizes there is nothing at all he can physically do to free himself, he defaults to the only thing left he can think of which is pleading.

“ _No no no_ …please don’t!”

At the angle his head is turned he can’t really see what is going on but the sound of a belt coming loose in a situation such as this leaves no room for the imagination.

Carver takes a step closer to him. Josto feels fabric and the other man's body warmth against his naked back and panics, and starts squirming between the wall and Carver.

“You’ll fuckin' kill me! Please! Loy ordered you not to kill me! You can’t do this!!!”

“ _Shhh shhh_ ,” Carver hushes while his hand travels from the back of Josto’s head down to the tie hanging over his shoulder where it coils around the fabric, and he begins to choke Josto just enough to shut him up.

“This won’t kill you…at least I think It won’t.”

Josto can feel something hard poking into his back and it makes him jerk.

Pulling on the tie Carver forces Josto's head back slightly, then parts his teeth and bites down hard on the back of his neck just below the hairline, making the smaller man freeze up immediately.

“N-no, no…” Josto chokes out as Carver starts to slowly stroke himself against his back while biting his neck.

After a few terrorizing moments of Carver beating his meat up against him and a nasty little voice in the back of his mind telling him what is about to happen next, Josto is a blubbering mess, tears of fear and desperation running down his cheeks.

Satisfied with the terror he has inflicted on his victim and eager to feel him writhing in pain on his cock, Carver stops masturbating and looks down the length of both their bodies, realizing that fucking Josto standing up will take too much complex acrobatics than he feels like doing at this particular moment.

Instead he tugs his cock inside his trousers again, grabs a fistful of Josto’s hair and drags him, kicking and screaming, over to the mattress in the middle of the room where he throws him face down then situates himself on the back of Josto’s thighs with a knee on either side of him, pinning him down.

Carver forces Josto’s tie between his teeth, gagging him and ties a tight knot at the back of his head.

He strokes himself for a minute while grabbing a handful of Josto’s behind before spitting in his hand and coating the head of his cock with the saliva.

Carver then places his cock at the cleft of Josto’s ass, finds the cavity and thrusts towards the tight ring of muscle there, though without being able to penetrate the first time.

The man beneath him lets out a strange high-pitched sound that reminds Carver of stepping on a rubber duck or something and starts clawing uselessly away at the mattress, trying to escape.

Carver takes aim and pushes again, this time harder and even more insisting than before, but Josto’s asshole is too tight and refuses to budge.

He sits back on Josto’s thighs and lets out an annoyed sigh before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his pearl handle switchblade, clicking the blade open.

Holding his victim steady by the neck, Carver makes a small oblique incision on the small of his back just above the tailbone.

Dark red blood starts flowing from the cut down the cleft of Josto’s pale ass.

Carver looks at the cut for a moment then decides he prefers the symmetry of an X more and makes another similar sized incision in the opposite direction of the already existing one. 

He folds the blade and puts it back in his pocket then coats the fingers on his right hand with the blood flowing steadily from the cuts on the small of Josto’s back.

Using both hands, Carver spreads his victim’s cheeks and forces his right index finger inside him, feeling the warm delicious tightness and flesh quivering all around it.

Muffled whimpers and squeals fills his ears as he starts driving his finger in and out of the smaller man in a slow rhythmic motion.

He continues like this for a minute or two then forces his middle finger inside as well.

Josto bucks once, lets out a primal scream and attempts to crawl forward but Carver calmly puts his left hand on his neck and holds him in place while he continues the assault.

After a few minutes he withdraws both fingers and wipes them off in the mattress next to Josto’s face.

Carver covers his length with blood, takes aim at Josto’s asshole and keeps pushing hard until he feels the muscle give way and the head of his cock slip inside.

Josto screams like a wounded animal and keeps doing so while Craver proceeds to push himself further into him using short, violent thrusts.

The fabric between his teeth is muffling the sounds he’s making but it is still loud enough for Carver to become annoyed.

Snaking a hand in Josto’s hair he shoves his face down into the mattress, cutting off his oxygen while he keeps thrusting, forcing himself deeper and deeper until he is almost balls deep in the other man’s ass.

Josto’s body bucks, squirms, jerks for a while then convulses and goes limp shortly after.

Carver turns Josto’s face to side and gives it a hard slap, bringing his victim back to consciousness.

Confused, Josto blinks a couple of times then his face twists in agony and he resumes squealing as Carver starts to fuck him - slowly at first then harder and more ruthless as Josto’s body gradually submits, giving way to the brutal invasion.

The pain is beyond excruciating like being ripped apart slowly or eaten alive from the inside by something wild and feral.

After a few minutes of Carver drilling mercilessly away at his ass, Josto’s strength is spent and he lies flat on the mattress, his screams and squeals reduced to small hiccupped sounds.

Then Carver lies down on top of Josto in order to force the last few inches of his cock inside him, his massive weight almost crushing Josto’s lungs.

What probably doesn’t take more than five minutes seems to Josto like hours, struggling to breathe, his disoriented mind a mess of terror, desperation and pain, then he feels Carver’s teeth biting down hard on his shoulder as he slams himself balls deep with a final, violent thrust and comes inside Josto with a grunt.

Tears of pain and humiliation stains Josto’s face and he lets out a loud, pain filled gasp as Carver pulls himself from his insides then rolls off him and onto his back next to him.

Something warm and sticky is running down the insides of Josto’s thighs, his whole body covered in sweat, trembling uncontrollably.

With shaking hands, he pulls the gag from between his teeth and lets the soaked fabric fall down over his neck like a noose then turns over on his side, whimpering with pain, attempting to crawl away from Carver, but the rapist just lazily reaches out a hand, grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls Josto back next to him before he can even get off the mattress.

“Oh, you thought we were done, _huh_?” Carver growls before pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one up and blowing the smoke against the back of Josto’s head.


End file.
